


Keep Running.

by Trezero



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frank is a smartass eventually, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loosely based off the comics, Other, Past Brainwashing, might be frerard i don't know yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3584934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trezero/pseuds/Trezero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A government agent.<br/>An amnesiac.<br/>Two best friends in college.<br/>Somehow, all four of them are connected, but they live their lives in Battery City, fairly satisfied (well, almost all of them are satisfied) with what they do and what they have.<br/>That is, until a certain broadcast changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

* * *

_Tap Tap Tap Tap_

Battery City.

You know those dysfunctional families? With the perfect cousins you're always compared to? And how those cousins are usually egoistic assholes? Battery City is that cousin. A city run by megalomaniacs and idiots. 

_Tap Tap Tap Tap_

Of course, you won't find anyone saying that this place is an utopia. Everyone craves something. Be it love, freedom, or your confiscated Frank Sinatra CD. 

Sure, we don't really discriminate one way or the other. We're all educated, with a stable place of residence and income. The medication that we're given by the government maximizes our productivity. Those who complete their education work to the benefit of California.

But truth to be told, you can't really go through life without seeing something you shouldn't have. 

It's been on my mind for a few days now, and I can't stop. This is what fear feels like, right?  

 


	2. #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get our first character introductions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand the first chapter is here!  
> Sorry if you wanted Frank or Gerard. They're main characters too, don't worry.  
> 

"You still haven't explained why you got it. I know that you have a thing for retro stuff, but what good is this?"

I stared at the 'old' piece of machinery, a radio. The first thing that struck me about its appearance however, was that it was not made by Better Living. It wasn't anything alarming, but everything, from clothing to technology to medicine was provided by the country's only company. There were no shipments from other sources, that being described as time-consuming and a waste of California's budget.

I assumed that it must be more than a little aged. Pre-Mushroom? No, that's not possible. It was small, box-shaped, with faded logos, crumbling paint and covered in dirt (which Ray was currently trying to wipe off with a kitchen towel), an antenna sticking out of it and a silver handle, also covered in dirt with visible fingerprints. You didn't have to be a genius to notice that whoever kept it before didn't take good care of it, or forgot to throw it away from their dust and filth-ridden attic.

"You'll see." said Ray, not facing me.

He brought in the radio about thirty minutes ago. I sent a string of curse words in his direction for waking me up, as any rational person would because normal people don't wake up at seven in the morning when they don't have to, but he didn't particularly care. When I asked him where he got it from, Ray just muttered something about a friend.

After fussing with it for about ten more minutes, he seemed to have gotten it working and stepped aside. I got curious as to what he could possibly play on it that couldn't be played on a regular one, and that only ever played weather forecasts, ads, and public announcements.

"Now... If I did everything right, this should go unnoticed."

"Ray, should I just go into this without any prior knowledge?" This felt alien, and the more time passed, the more I tried to convince myself that this was just some weird dream and that a talking giraffe would jump out and explain that I need to rid the world of evil kittens.

"I told you, you'll see. I'd appreciate if nothing got out of hand." He sighed. There was an explanation to this, but he was holding back, that much was obvious.

"Yeah, and I'd appreciate if you'd stop being a jackass for a second and explain."

For a few minutes, nothing but static. He frowned, his head now slightly turned into my direction so I could make out his facial expression. He pulled some switches and adjusted the antenna. The static disappeared.

Suddenly, a familiar jingle started to ring through the room. It was the same old shopping-mall kind of tune that would always play when BLI was holding an announcement.

**"Attention. You are entering restricted airwaves. Please turn your device off, or switch to a Better Living Industries-approved radio station for your best enjoyment. Have a nice day. Attention. You are now entering-"**

"Damn it!" He smashed his fist onto the counter. To a bystander, this was nothing new, but having know the mentioned afro-boy, I was surprised. It was one of the very few times I saw him genuinely angry, and this was the guy who would always calm me down when a conflict would arise so that I wouldn't get in trouble with the campus guards. He was the guy that wouldn't start a fight if you'd dump a bucket of water on his head. A ticked off Ray was like a unicorn.

The message just repeated itself, over and over again. Ray shut the radio off without speaking, and we stood there for at least two minutes, pondering the awkward silence that hang in the room. "Forget it..." He walked out of the dorm, shutting the dorm firmly behind him.

I didn't know what to make of this situation, nor did I know what to do.

Chase after him? Demand answers? Try to calm him down? It slowly dawned onto me that this was something that would actually get us in trouble if we went through with it. And to add, it was definitely way worse than anything I pulled off. I shuddered. Just thinking about being near one of those soldiers for too long was enough to make me want to run to the bathroom and puke my guts out.

So, in an attempt to distract myself, I picked up the book I started for my major, to gain credit: 'Computer Science: A New Future Ahead!'. I always thought how these were so poorly titled and cheesy, but I'd never voice that thought out loud. At least an hour passed and I realized that I stopped paying attention halfway into my readings. Just as I put the book away, I heard the dorm room open. Ray stormed in, looking terrified.

"Ray!? What's-" I jumped up, slightly worried. "She's dead. Jennifer's dead."

"Wha- Who's dead!? What happened?!" I was thrown into confusion.

"I'll explain later. Better Living Soldiers are coming for an inspection." Instantly, he didn't need to explain himself anymore. Before we left, Ray made a point about going back, diving into the panicking crowd, probably to hide the radio. I was getting anxious. Had they picked up the radio signal? Would they suspect that this death was our fault?

I struggled to stay calm as all the students were arranged in one line, awaiting the arrival of the Soldiers. The talking giraffe was running late.

They certainly lived up to their reputation.

About a dozen of them marched in, all wearing the same bags over their head, with the same black-and-white smiley face, carrying heavy firearms. Even their steps were perfectly timed. The only one that stood out was that at the very front. He didn't have a bag on his face, and so I could make out his features. Brown hair that was visibly unkept and was starting to grow out of the cut, a small stubble, and a gaze that could cut through diamonds. He also wore a different uniform that seemed to be more polished, and I assumed that he was the captain of that unit.

The university's headmaster, James, walked up to the man to greet him. "It's an amazing honor to have someone like you here." He said, his voice trembling with either fear or twisted excitement. I cringed.

The man in command paid no attention to flattery. "Show me where the individual was murdered while my agents will search the campus." He said, his voice stoic. Somehow, the man reminded me of something, but I didn't know what.

He looked at us, scanning for suspicious behavior. I froze. We were told to stay where we were as the plastic bag soldier men scattered around, and the man with the brown hair followed James to the crime scene.

Nobody dared to move out of line, but hushed whispers were shared as soon as the soldiers and James left. Ray had been lost in the mayhem that was the gathering, so I listened to the others talk.

**"Was that man a Scarecrow?"**

**"Jennifer died... It's sad, but I can't be the only one who didn't like her, right?"**

**"Wasn't she talking about the Zones?"**

**"Shut the fuck up!"**

I tried to calm myself, hoping that Ray wasn't in any immediate danger, or I myself wasn't, for that matter. The brown haired Scarecrow (?) man, came back shortly after, the soldiers following suit.

"We found unapproved media in the deceased's room. It's being taken care of ." He turned to look at us. "Let this be an example to you all: Owning unauthorized material can and will lead to danger. That is all. Have a nice day."

With a few gestures to his soldiers, they walked out in an organized fashion. Only when the door closed and the last BLI official has left were we able to relax. The principle dismissed us without another word.

I spotted Ray on my way back to the dorm, and felt relieved. He however, looked even more anxious than before.

"Did they question you?"

"No... I was just on the other end of the line."

Something clicked in my head.

"Was Jennifer... The one who gave you that old thing?"

He shushed me and brought me into our dorm room.

"Yes. She had about three of them, and gave one to me, and kept one for herself. Where the third one went I don't know. She also had some CD's with the, uh, pre-Mushroom War music. Luckily she gave them all to me." He went into the bathroom, and after a couple of minutes and weird noises he pulled out a stack of CD's.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" I yelled, almost grabbing Ray by the collar of his shirt.

"I was thinking for myself. You should too." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Mikey, you shouldn't take everything Better Living Industries tells you for granted. You do realize that, right?" "

Better Living aren't that bad! Why are you trying to shape them as coldblooded tyrants who don't care about anything but money!? You're always talking about them like we're living in a dystopian future!"

"So you're fine with this? You're fine with what they did?" I stared. He stared back. "You know what I'm talking about!"He had started shouting, and all his composure seemed lost, at least for a second. "You're fine with the fact that they always tell you what you should and shouldn't know!?"

"O-of course I'm not! But I get scared Ray, I'm afraid to get in trouble, you know that!? They're not so bad anyway, there was a reason for that-"

"If they're 'not so bad', then why are you so scared? Why are all of us scared? Just... Please do me a favor and think about that."

Just when it seemed like he was about to break something, he looked at peace again. Ray headed to the door.

"Where are you going now?"

"I think we both need to calm down."

With that, he left, leaving me alone in the dorm room yet again.

Of course I was still angry with him, and I urged to distract myself with something, but just couldn't sit down and get working. In the end, I paced around the shared living space, left alone with my thoughts.

I was still scared, no doubt, and scared for Ray too, no matter how mad I was. Chasing after him was pointless as he wasn't the best conversationist in times like these.

Did he have a point?

I tried to remember my encounters with the soldiers, the things I was taught, the teachings that they gave to us at school. 'Don't question the intents of Better Living Industry, it's for your own comfort.'

Don't question.

And it was true, you believed what you saw on posters and TV, and I remembered growing up with advertisements and preschool teachers all telling me how great it was that we were living here, and not somewhere in the Zones, where people fought for food and did horrible things, murdering each other for supplies or just for the sake of it. That's what they told me. Because it was great here. I was safe, inside the secure walls where everything I needed was laid out for me. All I needed to pay back was not to question it.

 I remembered asking why the Mushroom war started. I remembered asking why Better Living did this, that. I remembered that I was always put down, just like the other curious toddlers who weren't taught by their parents to keep their mouths shut. Eventually I came to a conclusion. Ray did have a point. In some way, or another, he was right. Of course there was the other... Thing he mentioned, but I didn't want to come back into that memory. It was all but intact, a bunch of gibberish that terrified me.

I had every right to be scared, didn't I?

I thought about the 'rebels'. The people who would vandalize buildings and streets, yelling out protests. I thought about how they were gone for a week, and then would come back, clean and smiley and positive and most of all, ready to give up their lives for the country of California.

But then, I also remembered that unlike the other countries, every person had a roof over their head, and a secure education and job. We didn't have hate crimes. If we did, I, or anyone for that matter, would hear about it. People were happy. 'I'm happy.'. 

_'No, this whole tyrannical government thing has to be wrong. They're not good in everything, but...'_ I thought. _'Better Living aren't so bad. I'll just talk to Ray and he'll understand.'_

It didn't help me but sent me into anxiety again, and I forced myself to indulge in something else, something not concerning my own thoughts. Not directly at least. My eyes eventually landed on the CD stash of pre-Mushroom War music. I wasn't going to listen it, but looking was certainly not illegal.

I flipped through the covers, reading into each one of them as if hoping I'd find something I was familiar with. Misfits, Black Flag, The Beatles, Queen, and many more. I didn't realized how many there actually were, especially because not all had the luxury of a standard CD case, some were just wrapped in cloth to save them from being scratched. "Die, Die, My Darling, Space Oddity, Jesus Of Suburbia... What kind of names are these?" Some of them were so stupid I began to laugh. Would listening to them be worth it, just out of research? I was still confused, terrified, but a lot less angry.

Ray was still wrong.

To pass time, I opened up one of my assignments, which was a set of questions. **_Question 1: How do you plan to benefit Better Living Industries with the usage of the programming languages you've mastered, or planning to master?_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the constructive criticism I can get! I know that this isn't the best thing ever, but I am going to try my best and improve.  
> Which probably means that I'll be editing this chapter a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> My first one.  
> Writing skills: Kinda shitty.  
> But hey, might turn into something


End file.
